The words were not out of his lips, before Juan perceived that he had raised his rapier against the bosom of Cortes. He beheld, in the countenance which he had once loved, the scowl of an evil spirit, and the fire flashing from the general's eyes, was no longer to be mistaken for aught but the revelation of the deadliest hatred. He flung down his sword, resisting no longer, and the next instant would have been run through the body, but that Befo, fearing to attack, and yet unable to resist the impulse of fidelity, sprang up, with a howl, and seized the weapon with his teeth. Before Cortes could disengage it, and again turn it upon the unfortunate youth, the Mexican fugitive glided from the apartment, threw himself before the latter, and taking the point of the weapon in his hand, placed it against his own naked breast. Then bowing his head submissively, he stood in tranquillity, expecting his death.
At his sudden appearance, the soldiers set up a shout, and Cortes was sufficiently diverted from his bloody purpose, to smooth his frowning brow into an air of official sternness.
"Olin is the prisoner of the Teuctli," murmured the captive, in words scarce understood by any one present, except Juan.
"Where bide mine Alguazils?" demanded the Captain-General, without condescending to notice the Mexican any further than merely by removing the rapier from his grasp. "Hah, Guzman! thou art hurt, art thou? By heaven,"—But he checked the oath, when he observed that Guzman, already on his feet, notwithstanding the frightful appearance that was given him by the blood running down his cheek and neck, and drippling slowly from his beard, replied to the exclamation with a smile of peculiar coolness: "Get thee to a surgeon. Where bide the Alguazils? Is there no officer to rid me of a traitor?"
"Señor General," said Juan, sullenly, "I am no traitor—"
He was interrupted by the appearance of two men, carrying batons, who bustled from among the crowd, and laid hands upon him. The readiest and the most officious was Villafana, who concealed a vast deal of agitation under an air of extravagant zeal.
"Ha, Villafana! art thou found at last?" cried Don Hernan, with apparent anger. "Hast thou no better care of thy ward on the water-side, but that spies may come stealing into my garden?"
"May it please your excellency," said Villafana, recovering his wit, "I was neither gambling nor asleep; but—'Slid, this is a pretty piece of villany! Oho, señor mutineer, this is hanging-work?—Speak not a word, as you love life."—This was spoken apart into Juan's ear.—"What is your excellency's will, touching the prisoner?"
"Have him to prison, and see that he escape not."
These words were pronounced with a coolness and gravity that amazed all who had witnessed the rage, which, but a moment before, had shaken the frame of the Captain-General. "And you, ye idle fellows," he continued, addressing the soldiers, "get you to your quarters, to your watch, or to your beds. Begone.—Why loiter ye, Villafana? Conduct away the prisoner."